Page 83 of A Secret Correspondence
Marguerite slipped her hands beneath his jacket, sliding them around his waist. Her hands trailed a path of heat along his back as she looked up into his eyes. “I love you. I would like to marry you, Samuel, if you will have me.”
He could not take it any longer. Joy erupted in his chest, spreading through his body and stretching the grin over his face. He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her without restraint. Finally, Samuel held her in his arms and lived the breadth of his joy entirely.Thiswas wholeness.Thiswas what it felt like to be one with another. Heat melded their bodies while her lips bent to his with equal fervor, giving as deeply as she received. She gripped the back of his waistcoat in her fingers, pressing herself against him as though she could not be close enough.
He craved the same.
Samuel dropped a hand to her waist, the other tipping her chin to deepen the kiss. He finally understood Oliver’s words. He did not want to wait another moment to call this woman his wife. He wanted to spend every minute with her for the rest of forever. He wanted to wake up beside her, to have their tea in the afternoons, to take walks side by side, to discuss their days over dinner. He wanted the quiet successes and the difficult times with her. He wanted to steal her kisses and hold her hand and raise her children and make decisions with her.
Thiswas love.
Breaking away, he leaned his forehead against hers, their chests heaving. “You are incredible. Can we do that every day?”
“Certainly,” Marguerite agreed. “Perhaps even twice.”
Samuel barked a laugh, pulling her in for another, slower kiss.
When Marguerite leaned back to breathe again, she gave hima considering look. “Madame Harding does not sound quite as French as my last name.”
“No, but I think Harewood has learned of your skill by now, have they not? Surely you no longer need to prove you are French enough.”
Marguerite grinned. “Where would we live, Samuel? Here? Would you come into the shop and help me choose colors for all the women’s gowns?”
“Yes. I would not mind that duty. I think I am rather good at it.”
She laughed, the sound ringing out like joy throughout the room. “You are being ridiculous.”
“I think it is a fantastic notion.”
“Well, I think it would be better to keep your house,” she countered. “It is your inheritance, is it not? I assume it has been in your family for generations.”
“A few, yes,” he said mildly. He did not want to reveal how long.
She seemed to mull it over. “The country does seem a nice place to raise children.”
“Children,” he repeated. “I do like the sound of that. But I do not think we can afford to save the house.”
Marguerite’s hand slid down to his. “There is something I need to show you.”
“Can we clean the cut on your neck first?”
Her fingers fluttered up to where the knife had nicked her, then brushed her jaw. “These can wait. Come.”
Samuel followed Marguerite upstairs. She led him into her bedroom, holding a candlestick to light the way. Pulling a knife from her writing table, she moved to kneel at the foot of the bed. After tugging the blankets away to reveal the mattress, Marguerite made a slice through the end of it and started pulling out straw. She found something and set it on the floor with a hard clink.
Samuel did not need to be brilliant to know it was jewelry.
This continued for several minutes until three pieces of jewelry lined the floor. Marguerite sat back on her heels and looked up at Samuel. “I think we have enough.”
He eyed them. “Is this notyourinheritance?”
“It is all I found in my aunt’s clothing, but she would not have expected me to hold onto antiquated family heirlooms when they would have the power to save your estate, Samuel.”
He lowered himself and knelt beside her. “We do not need to make any decisions at present. You were wise to keep these hidden away, or Paul could have located them when he snuck into your bedchamber.” Samuel picked up a large ruby ring and admired it in the candlelight. He could not fathom the wealth she had left behind in France. “These are beautiful.”
“They are. Thank you. My aunt was lovely, too. She looked very much like my mother, who looked very much like me.”
“Then I am certain you had a remarkable household. Shall we go fetch your mother’s things now?”
Marguerite drew in a heavy breath. “I would like that very much.”
